


Bad Habits

by enchantedteapot



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue Compliant, Harry Potter Next Generation, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, One Shot, Post-Break Up, Post-Hogwarts, Romance, Short One Shot, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25228405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enchantedteapot/pseuds/enchantedteapot
Summary: For everyone has their vices and, for Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy, this was one bad habit they still had yet to break.
Relationships: Scorpius Malfoy/Rose Weasley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45





	Bad Habits

**Author's Note:**

> Just a sleepy Sunday one-shot, because why not?! This originally started life as something Draco/Ginny (*gasp* I know, what was I thinking) and is a little angsty scene for our two lovebirds. 
> 
> The toad/frog debacle is from the 2005 film 'Closer'.

** Bad Habits **

If Scorpius had known that she was going to be here then he probably would never have come. He was cowardly like that, or so his grandfather liked to claim, avoiding the confrontations that really mattered.

Once, Scorpius had scoffed at this – after all, carving a path in politics as the progeny of known Death Eaters had not come without its fair share of conflicts and yet, now here he was: skulking around the edge of a social gathering he could typically have conducted with his eyes closed. Following the sway of that long red hair, those full hips, as she mingled effortlessly, smiling and laughing and steadfastly ignoring his unwavering stare.

Five months, twenty four days and, he checked his watch, almost two hours since the last time he had seen her. Not that he was keeping track.

Almost six months since she had left him, walking out on him without a word. Sweet Circe, he had thought she’d just gone out for a walk to cool off after one of their rows. It was only a week later, after she’d sent two of her cousins – he forgot which ones; couldn’t tell them apart anyway – round to collect her things, that he began to realise she might not be coming back.

And now she turned up here, _here_ of all places, at some silly Ministry gala for the launch of the new campaign year. His turf. The nerve of it was positively maddening

He growled over the rim of his scotch glass as he watched her lay a delicate hand on her date’s forearm. His own date twittered aimlessly at his side, chatting about the weather and the latest _Prophet_ headlines with Nott and his fiancé; she was pretty, she was nice, she was really rather dull, which left Scorpius with ample opportunity to sift through the barrage of hurtful asides he had been mentally compounding this past half year in case of such a chance encounter.

Oddly, however, none of them seemed to spring to mind now that the occasion had arisen, not that it mattered particularly. Certainly, he wouldn’t be the one to call truce on this obvious stalemate. His pride, dented as it was by her initial abandonment, never mind the way she was refusing to acknowledge him here tonight, would simply not allow it.

There would be no olive branch, no conciliatory words or gestures. He wasn’t even going to give her the satisfaction of being the one to approach her. Absolutely, definitely not.

But then he watched her drift from the crowd, quite alone and heading towards the terrace and – suddenly – his feet were carrying him after her without conscious thought.

Scorpius stepped out into the cool evening air, eyes trailing down the cut of her backless dress. She stiffened at his presence but didn’t turn around. He watched as she lit up a cigarette, leaning slightly over the railings and gazing out at the distant lights of muggle London.

“I see you’re here with Belby,” he muttered after a moment, breathing in the familiar scent of cloves and smoke, “I didn’t know princesses really did kiss toads.”

“I think you mean frogs.”

He frowned, “I know what I mean, and it’s toads.”

“Frogs.”

“ _Toads._ ”

“It’s definitely frogs -,”

“Sweet Salazar,” he growled at her. “Toads, frogs, lobsters. They’re all the fucking same.”

He saw the corner of her mouth twitch.

She turned then, facing him head on with that same coy smile that had driven him half mad countless times before. “Want one?” She held out her packet of cigarettes, he paused for a moment then shook his head.

“Gave up,” he grunted. Besides, he didn’t want any one, he wanted _that_ one. The one in her hand, the one that had been between her lips just moments before. The one that would taste of her.

She arched a slim eyebrow in amusement and turned back to the city, “How uncharacteristically mature of you.”

“I find myself very uncharacteristic of late.”

“Oh? That must be exciting.”

“It has its moments.”

A strange silence followed. Scorpius watched, transfixed, as she flicked her cigarette, the ash tumbling down over the balcony railings like dead petals. A light breeze tossed strands of copper-red hair about her face. Some caught on her cheek and Scorpius found he had to clench his fist to stop himself from reaching out and brushing his fingers across the freckle-marked skin.

“I wasn’t sure you would speak to me,” she said softly, betraying a hint of uncertainty at last whilst keeping her eyes firmly trained on the streetlights of the road below them.

“Neither was I,” he murmured around his glass.

She looked at him again, pinning her shoulders back almost defiantly, “I’m glad you did.”

He nodded in acknowledgement but said nothing. He wasn’t so sure he should have anymore. Just standing here, being so near, breathing in the same smoke-clouded air as her was turning his head, making him feel disoriented again after almost six months of steady ground.

“Come home with me.”

It was strange… if he hadn’t felt his lips move, he would have sworn someone else was speaking. Hadn’t he promised himself he would at least try and maintain a little of his dignity? At least it was an order and not a request – yes, nicely authoritarian. He wasn’t completely done over just yet.

She sighed, seemingly disappointed. Perhaps she’d thought she’d given him enough time? Always underestimating him, Scorpius scoffed internally.

“I think your date might mind,” she muttered, coolly.

He held her gaze intently, “I’ve already forgotten her name,”

“I bet it was something pretty.”

“I dare say it was, _Rosie_.”

She scowled at that, and Scorpius caught a glimpse of the same young woman that had first captivated him so completely. The one he used to watch across rooms, laughing and teasing and berating her swarm of red-headed, red-faced cousins; that child-like stubbornness that had been so fascinating to find in someone of her steely confidence.

Of course, that was before he’d set his sights on her. Before he’d inserted himself into her life and worn down her every defence. Like a glacier meeting a forest fire. There’d been tantrums, there’d been screaming matches, there’d been blatant seduction and unmatched physical desire. There’d been pressure from her family and disapproval from his and, for a while, it had felt like the two of them against the world.

Until, somehow, the world had prevailed. 

He watched her face cloud again as she hastily stubbed out her cigarette. “Callum will be waiting. I should go -,”

Scorpius caught her arm as she began to move away and the sudden contact made them both shiver involuntarily, long dormant nerve cells crackling to life.

“Come now, Weasley,” he muttered, darkly, “I think you owe me for deceiving me so exquisitely.”

“I can’t imagine that I owe _you_ , anything,” she stuck out her chin, hazel eyes flashing, but he could already see her thawing, her resolve melting and trickling out of the hot glare she had levelled at him.

Scorpius quirked an eyebrow, “You told me you’d be right back.”

“Well, here I am,” she sniped, “sorry I’m six months late.”

“Don’t try and be clever. Smug never did suit you.”

“And yet you wear it so well, my darling.”

Scorpius’ lip curled, even as he watched hers begin to tremble. Not so unaffected by him after all, he took great pleasure in realising. He let his eyes travel from her mouth, down the creamy column of her neck, following the flush of long suppressed desire as it spread across her skin.

People had said they were no good for each other – that this thing between them was unhealthy, obsessional even. He preferred to think there was something fated about their attraction, a greater force that allowed him to unconsciously know when she entered a room, for her stare to find his with ease, even through a crowd. And even now, that same gravitational pull had her arching towards him as his fingers traced his initials across the back of her wrist, almost of their own accord.

Scorpius watched her face darken with defeat and allowed himself a predatory smirk, “Well?”

“Give me ten minutes,” Rose whispered, evidently pained by the ease with which her resolve had wilted. “I’ll tell Callum I’m getting a migraine. Meet me at the nearest apparition point.”

Scorpius curled his fist more tightly around her arm, pulling her so close that he could smell the sweet cloves on her breath and, she, the scotch on his. He brushed his lips against the corner of her mouth – just close enough to appear indecent, if anyone had the presence of mind to be watching them – and felt her pulse quicken beneath his fingertips. He honestly didn’t know if he could wait ten minutes.

“I’m going to make you forget your own name by morning, Weasley,” he drawled into her curls.

He felt her shiver in arousal, even as she sighed, “That’s what I’m afraid of, Malfoy.”

Finally relenting, Scorpius wet his lips, knocking back the remains of his drink in one large, scorching mouthful and then followed her, at a discrete distance, back into the crowded room.

For everyone has their vices and, for Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy, this was one bad habit they still had yet to break.

**


End file.
